


Wedding Bells

by ponticle



Series: Coffee Shop Universe [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boys Kissing, Coffee Shop Universe, Engagement, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Series, Sex, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 01:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponticle/pseuds/ponticle
Summary: Cullen, Dorian, Anders, and Alistair attend Carver and Felix's wedding. Alistair has an important question to ask and Cullen is called upon to give advice.Entire piece told from Cullen's POV--third person, present tense.This is the second-to-last piece of the Coffee Shop Series. Although it can be read as a stand-alone, it will make a LOT more sense as part of the larger piece. As a reminder, this is a medical AU where Cullen is a psychiatrist, Dorian is a radiologist, Alistair is an orthopedist, and Anders is in a sports medicine residency.





	Wedding Bells

**Author's Note:**

> Rated E... have fun!

* * *

**Cullen**

 

* * *

 

“You know people usually pay me for this sort of thing, right?” jokes Cullen.

Alistair rolls his eyes. “We can take it off what you owe me for ‘pain and suffering’ over the years.”

Cullen isn't sure how to be helpful in this situation. It's been years, but Alistair coming to him for relationship advice isn't something he's used to. Despite the fact that they live in the same city again, Alistair mostly communicates through Dorian.

“I just need to know what to do,” Alistair reiterates.

Cullen exhales. He's thinking.

“Is this making you uncomfortable?” asks Alistair suddenly.

“No,” says Cullen, “of course not.”

“Then what the hell am I going to do?” Alistair asks again.

Cullen doesn’t know. When he’s in sessions, he lets clients figure out things for themselves as much as possible. He gives them space to expand into. But in _this_ scenario, he doubts Alistair will think that’s helpful.

“Well… does Anders know you’ve been thinking about this?” Cullen asks.

“Not really.” Alistair looks down at his feet.

They’re sitting almost knee-to-knee in high-backed chairs. The hotel Felix and Carver chose for their wedding is quite ostentatious. The lounge features antique overstuffed smoking chairs and ships in bottles. The wood is all dark oak. The whole place smells like cigars, even though no one has smoked indoors in decades.

Cullen really likes the whole place, even though he could do without the taxidermy. Alistair, by contrast, looks uncomfortable. Nothing about this suits him.

“The first step is going to be to tell him,” says Cullen. “Haven’t you learned by now that keeping secrets is damaging to your relationship?”

Alistair gives him a decidedly unfriendly look. Cullen wonders if they’re about to be fighting.

“I just don’t want to stress him out,” Alistair admits.

“Al…” Cullen rubs the back of his neck with his palm. “He’s your boyfriend… you’ve been together for—” he pauses. He isn’t completely sure how long they’ve been together, but he counts the whole thing. There was never a time when Alistair wasn’t with Anders in his heart.

“—For a really long time…” he concludes. “You need to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Are you sure this is the right week?” Alistair asks. “It won’t detract from the wedding?”

“Well, don’t interrupt the processional or anything,” Cullen laughs. “Just… when you go back to your room tonight, _ask_ him.”

Cullen pats Alistair’s knee. “You’re going to be fine. I’m actually really happy for you.”

Alistair smiles, but he looks wary. “Thanks, Cullen.”

 

 

* * *

Cullen turns the corner into his room pretty late. He’s used to being up all night, though. Mia, at three, still doesn’t really sleep through the night. She’s at Cullen’s parents’ house this week, though, so Dorian and Cullen are on their own. It feels weird—like a little piece of him is missing. He never knew he’d feel like this.

“Hi,” says Dorian. He’s sprawled out across the bed, flipping through TV stations. “Did you know _The Wiggles_ aren’t on every channel? I had forgotten.”

Cullen laughs and kicks his shoes off near the door. He hangs his clothes in the closet, but leaves his underwear on. He’s in the habit of going to bed slightly dressed in case Mia needs him at three in the morning.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Cullen asks. Dorian is Felix’s best man, so they were joined at the hip. “It’s sweet—seeing you with Felix like this. You can tell you’ve been friends forever.”

Dorian smiles and opens his arms so Cullen will hug him. They roll together until they’re side by side across the bed. Cullen’s feet are still hanging off the edge.

“You liked seeing me with another guy?” Dorian raises an eyebrow.

Cullen laughs, “Eww… I think of him like your _brother_ … you even look alike.”

Dorian rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. “You’re sweet.”

“Thanks…” Cullen drags his hand across Dorian’s chest. The skin is so soft. He feels it every night, but he can’t remember the last time they both had time and energy to really enjoy each other.

“What were you talking to Al about earlier?” asks Dorian. He rolls his head so they can look at each other.

Cullen sighs. “Do you really want to talk about Alistair while we’re in bed together?”

Dorian smiles.

“...when we could be doing all kinds of other stuff…” Cullen rolls and straddles Dorian’s hips. “...things we _never_ get to do because we have a toddler?”

“I want to know what you were talking about because Al looked horrified,” says Dorian. He adjusts himself so he’s directly under Cullen’s hips and curves gently up.

“I miss you,” says Cullen. “Please make love to me…” He leans down to kiss Dorian’s chest.

“You’re very compelling,” says Dorian. His hands find their way to the back of Cullen’s neck. He tangles his fingers in a few too-long curls. “...tell me what Alistair was saying and then we’ll fuck. I promise.”

Cullen can’t argue with that. He sits up and inhales deeply. He’s going to get this whole story out in one long string of syllables. “He wants to propose to Anders, but he doesn’t want to stress him out. He just started his residency and he’s exhausted—” he pauses to look at Dorian pointedly, “you remember those days…”

“Do I ever,” mumbles Dorian.

“Right… so he wasn’t sure if it was the right time…” continues Cullen. “Especially since he doesn’t want to detract from wedding week…”

Dorian’s expression is confusing. Cullen can’t read it.

“What?” he asks.

“Why did he ask _you_?” asks Dorian.

“He didn’t want to bother you.” Cullen shrugs. “...and I think he wanted to ask me because I’m more of an outsider—he thought I’d be objective…”

Dorian nods. “Maybe…”

“Okay, so now are you going to make love to me?” asks Cullen. He leans in to kiss Dorian, but Dorian looks over his shoulder.

He flops unceremoniously on Dorian’s chest and sighs. “There is no chance you’re going to let this go, is there?”

“I want to understand what was actually _happening_ ,” says Dorian. He’s speaking softly into Cullen’s ear. His lips keep brushing it—Cullen shivers.

“He was nervous,” says Cullen irritably, “it’s normal when you’re about to propose…”

Dorian laughs, “I was a _mess_ before I proposed to you…”

Cullen props himself up on an elbow and smiles.

“Of course,” continues Dorian haughtily, “It was a special circumstance… we were technically broken up at the time.”

They both laugh.

“So what was the conclusion?” asks Dorian eventually. “Did you tell him to do it?”

“Not in so many words,” equivocates Cullen. “I just told him he needed to talk to Anders because keeping secrets from each other has never been good for their relationship.”

“I think that was good advice,” says Dorian. He slips his fingers under the edge of Cullen’s underwear and traces his hip.

“Oh _now_ you’re interested in me?” jokes Cullen.

Dorian smirks. “I think you’ve earned it.”

“What do you feel like tonight?” Cullen asks.

“Something debaucherous,” he says. “We’re not parents tonight.”

Cullen brackets his hands on either side of Dorian’s head and rolls his hips forward. “Just say the word, Love.”

Dorian struggles to get himself out of his sweat pants while Cullen pulls his own underwear down and kicks them somewhere in the corner of the room. They’re getting good at undressing silently and discretely—it was a necessary parenting skill in their tiny Brooklyn apartment and their new place in Boston isn’t much better.

“Fuck,” says Dorian when they’re finally undressed and grinding against each other. He’s hard and leaking already.

“Yes, please,” whispers Cullen.

Cullen feels ready to be fucked right then and there, but Dorian puts a palm flat on his chest.

“Not yet… we get one shot at this,” says Dorian. “Let’s make it perfect.”

They both laugh.

“Actually,” says Cullen haughtily, “we’re going to be alone together in this hotel room for the next three nights in a row…”

Dorian winks and growls. “Then let tonight be the dirtiest and we’ll pull it back from there.”

Cullen smiles and lifts himself up enough that he can grab Dorian’s cock between them. He strokes it gently, letting the head run against his own stomach. It leaves a trail of liquid in its wake that he loves. If it were in a different place on his body—where he could reach—he’d lick it off.

Dorian groans and thrusts into Cullen’s palm. He reaches his own hand down toward Cullen’s dick and rubs it gently. It’s just a little tugging movement, but Cullen feels like he hasn’t been touched in an age. He tries, for a moment, to remember the last time they had sex, but he _can’t_.

“When did we fuck last?” he asks suddenly.

Dorian laughs, but doesn’t stop touching him. “I literally can’t remember…”

Cullen leans down and kisses Dorian hard. His tongue explores the inside of Dorian’s mouth and his teeth graze Dorian’s lips.

“I think it was your birthday,” gasps Dorian.

Cullen backs up for a second. “It’s been over a fucking month?”

Dorian shrugs—at least in as much as a person can shrug when he’s pinned to the mattress and struggling to jack off his husband.

“Dear god, we cannot let that happen again,” says Cullen. He rolls off Dorian and lands on his side. “Let me make it up to you.”

Dorian doesn’t argue. If anything, he stretches himself out like a present—one that Cullen won’t mind unwrapping at all.

“How are you going to do that?” asks Dorian.

“You’ll see.” Cullen trails kisses along the side of Dorian’s ribs and across the ridge of his hip. He crawls lower until he can bite the insides of Dorian’s thighs.

Dorian shivers and shakes. His hands trail up and down his own chest in frustration.

Cullen nuzzles into a tuft of black hair and lets Dorian’s cock rub against his cheek.

“God, Cullen… please suck me.”

“If you’re _sure_ that’s what you want…” he laughs.

Cullen licks along the underside of Dorian’s cock. It’s painstakingly slow. He grabs a handful of Dorian’s ass where it’s lying against the bed and kneads it.

Suddenly, Dorian says something Cullen doesn’t expect: “I don’t want to come like this.”

Cullen picks his head up. It’s a confusing sentence for two reasons. First: why not? And second, they haven’t been at it long enough to even consider coming, according to Dorian’s usual standards.

“Are you, _Dorian_ …” he laughs, “afraid of coming prematurely?”

Dorian doesn’t really blush, but he has a telltale dimple.

Cullen licks the head of Dorian’s cock again—just a little flick. Dorian shivers.

“Are you afraid you’re going to lose control and come all over my face?” Cullen asks. “In my mouth? Down my neck? Will I lick it up and swallow all of it?”

Dorian whines. It sounds painful. “Stop it…” he groans.

“Stop what?” teases Cullen. He wraps his hand around the base of Dorian’s cock and pumps it a few times, sliding the head deliberately across his parted lips. “Stop… touching you?” “Stop… licking you.” He drags his tongue from root to tip demonstratively.

“God, Cullen… I missed you so much,” complains Dorian. “Come up here… just for a second.”

Cullen knows how Dorian sounds when he’s kidding and when he isn’t. Right now, it isn’t a joke. He crawls up and lies down on his stomach next to Dorian. Their lips are just an inch apart.

“I want you so much… but I didn’t realize how long it had been… I haven’t even gotten off in like two weeks,” Dorian admits.

Cullen interrupts him. “When was the last time you masturbated?”

“In the shower before grand rounds two weeks ago,” he answers.

“God, Dor…” Cullen kisses him. “You need to employ better self-care skills.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”

Cullen catches Dorian’s bottom lip between his teeth and manages to grin.

Dorian kisses him sloppily and eventually pulls his head back. “...so can I please come inside you?”

Cullen nods.

“Just fair warning, though,” Dorian laughs at himself, “I’m going to last like two minutes.”

“It’s fine—that will give you more time to handle me…” jokes Cullen.

Dorian laughs again, “Just flip over, you crazy person.” He sits up and pushes Cullen until he’s on his hands and knees in front of him.

Dorian grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside table. A thought occurs to Cullen.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” he asks.

“What?”

Cullen laughs, “You planned this whole ‘lying on the bed sexily’ thing so I’d come home and we’d fuck… you even put the lube within grabbing distance.”

“Are you mad?” Dorian asks.

“Of course not. I’m here for whatever you’ve got planned.”

Dorian uncaps the bottle and warms the liquid in his hands before spreading it all over Cullen’s ass. His fingers curl into Cullen a second later. It feels incredible—like he’s been waiting his whole life to be filled like this. And he wants more. He pushes his hips back toward Dorian and pants.

“Do you want me?” asks Dorian.

The answer is obvious, but Cullen answers anyway. “Fuck me. Please.”

The fingers are gone in a millisecond, replaced by the blunt, thick head of Dorian’s cock. While Cullen is stretched and pulled in every direction, it occurs to him that they haven’t had sex exactly like this in even longer than they haven’t had sex in general.

“How long have you been wanting to do this?” he asks. His voice comes out broken and stuttering.

“My whole fucking life.” Dorian’s fingers wrap around the edge of Cullen’s hips and dig in. He’s not one to push too hard—he won’t leave bruises—but it’s hard enough to remind Cullen that there’s a goal here.

“Dor,” Cullen pants. “Are you close?”

Dorian gasps and groans. Cullen thinks it means _‘yes’_ but it isn’t really any kind of an answer.

A few more rough thrusts and he gets his answer anyway—Dorian cries out and comes so deep Cullen feels every contraction.

In the stillness that follows, they automatically move toward the bathroom. This is a nice hotel—the shower is a large one with a glass enclosure. Cullen turns it on.

“Come in here with me?” he asks.

Dorian smiles. He looks spent, but he follows Cullen anyway. They let the water soak through their hair. Cullen’s hands roam the planes of Dorian’s body.

“You’re so gorgeous,” whispers Cullen.

Dorian smiles. He’s starting to recover—he manages to look haughty.

“Tell me about that last time you got yourself off…” whispers Cullen. He pulls Dorian against his chest backwards and lets his dick press into the crease of his ass. He makes the change so quickly, Dorian’s breath catches.

“What do you want to know?” asks Dorian.

“Tell me who you were thinking about,” whispers Cullen. He bites the shell of Dorian’s ear.

Dorian smirks. “You, of course…”

Cullen knows he’d say that even if it wasn’t true, but he thinks it probably _is_. They have a really robust desire for each other, even if they don’t get to have sex often now.

“I pictured you on your knees,” continues Dorian. “Sucking and licking my cock.”

Cullen grinds his hips forward against Dorian’s ass.

“Letting it go all the way down your throat…” Dorian turns his head slightly to bite the edge of Cullen’s jaw.

Cullen wraps his hand around and finds that Dorian is already pretty hard again. “So much for having one shot at this…” he laughs.

Dorian shrugs. “I meant _you_ , obviously… I’m still young.” They’re actually two months apart—it’s an old joke, but Cullen likes it. He likes it when Dorian teases him in all arenas, actually.

Cullen drops his face into the crook of Dorian’s neck and kisses the wet skin. “Show me what you did… in the shower… thinking about me blowing you.”

Dorian pushes his ass back toward Cullen a little harder before grabbing his cock. He strokes it demonstratively—slowly at first—but he’s thumbing the slit and jerking his hips forward before Cullen expects it. He’s eager.

“I want to fuck you,” whispers Cullen. He bites Dorian’s neck gently and wraps his arms tightly around Dorian’s waist. “Now.”

Dorian looks at him dangerously and steps out of the stream of water. They’ve been together long enough that Cullen expects he knows what is coming.

Cullen kneels and pushes Dorian against the opposing shower wall. He encourages his hips back and torso forward so he’s arched and open.

Dorian gasps when Cullen kisses the base of his spine.

Cullen trails his lips and tongue between Dorian’s cheeks and licks.

Dorian presses his ass backward. Cullen can’t tell if it’s begging or a reflex, but he responds anyway, pushing his tongue inside.

“Need you,” sputters Dorian.

Cullen stands and gathers spit to lick his first two fingers. Dorian is shaking in anticipation. When he puts them inside, Dorian swears. It's not coherent, but Cullen loves it. He fucks his fingers in and out of Dorian until the slide is easy.

“I feel like I should probably go get that lube…” whispers Cullen. He knows it isn't sexy, but he loves Dorian. It's not like they have to fuck in a back alley or something.

“No you don't,” says Dorian. He turns and leans over to suck Cullen's cock into his mouth. When he has deposited a surprising amount of spit he stands up and winks.

Dorian is the best at being impulsive. Cullen thinks it's strange, because he's also the best at being methodical, but in the bedroom it's his spontaneity that wins out. By the time Cullen starts to fuck him in earnest Dorian has grabbed his own cock and he's stroking it in time. Cullen feels like his internal monologue makes him miss the best parts: the struggle of the first few thrusts, the fight to find a rhythm. What he _never_ misses, though, is the look on Dorian's face when they finally get into the swing of things.

That's the expression he's wearing right now. His face is smashed against the shower wall, water running from his hair into his eyes, and he's swearing and sweating like this is the best he's ever felt in his life.

“I am so lucky,” blurts Cullen. He whispers it into Dorian's ear, actually. Surprisingly, it's not as lame as he thinks. Dorian pushes back against him and groans.

“Yeah, you are,” he teases.

They laugh, despite how preoccupied they are.

“Are you close?” Dorian asks.

Cullen nods against his skin.

“Then do it.”

It doesn't take much more for Cullen to see stars behind his eyelids. Before he knows it, they're kissing their way through the rest of a shower and pouring themselves into bed.

When Dorian finally turns out the light and curls into Cullen's chest, Cullen feels like he's never been so happy.

“Do you think we should call your parents and check in on Mia?” asks Dorian.

Cullen picks his head up to look at the clock. “It's two in the morning.”

Dorian laughs. “Okay.. first thing tomorrow, then.”

“I love you, Dorian,” says Cullen. They still aren't that kind of couple—the kind who says the L-word all the time—but it feels right. It feels commemorative.

“I love you too.” Dorian buries his face in Cullen's chest. “What do you think Al is going to do?”

“I'm not sure… I think he's going to propose… just maybe not this week,” answers Cullen thoughtfully.

“Do you think Anders is going to say yes?”

“I'm not sure.” Cullen thinks about it. He doesn't feel like he knows Anders well enough to tell. “You know, I think we need to get to know Anders better…”

“Oh yeah?” Dorian kisses the skin his mouth is near. It's so gentle, Cullen almost feels like he's in bed with some other Dorian—not the one he's married to.

“Yeah… I think it would make Al really happy.”

“And that _matters_ to you? His happiness?” Dorian scoffs. He's joking, but it feels kind of mean.

“Yeah, Dor…” says Cullen softly. “I care about him. I never intended to screw his life up, you know…”

They've never really talked about the scandal. Even when it was fresh, Dorian never asked about it. That strikes Cullen as sort of odd, actually.

“Hey, Dor…”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn't you ever ask me about what happened?” He clears his throat. “With Alistair?”

Dorian shrugs. “I guess I didn't want to know… please don't tell me right now.”

Cullen wraps his arms more tightly around Dorian's back. “I won't… but I do want you to know one thing.”

“What?”

“I loved him once. I wasn't lying about that,” says Cullen. Dorian exhales sharply. “But I've never loved anyone like I love you.” 

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Dorian and Cullen wake up tangled in each other’s arms. Cullen realizes, before he opens his eyes, that he’s groggy and the inside of his mouth tastes weird. He runs his tongue along the front of his teeth and grimaces.

“Hey,” whispers Dorian. “You were talking in your sleep again.”

Cullen laughs, “What did I say?”

“That you love me… you wish I’d spend more time letting you suck my dick…” he laughs. “The usual.”

“Hilarious.”

Dorian’s expression softens, “No… it was something about work, I think. You were really just wailing.”

Cullen sits up, “That is hardly better.”

Dorian smiles, “What time is it?”

Cullen looks at the clock. He has to squint because he hasn’t put his glasses on yet. “I think that says 7:38?”

“Ugh…” Dorian flops his forearm across his eyes. “This is going to be such a long day…”

Cullen leans down and wraps his arms around Dorian’s waist. “At least we’ll be together…” It’s true too—their Venn diagram of friends is just one circle.

“Yeah.. I guess that’s true. Do you think Al is sad that Anders is off with Carver and company all day?” asks Dorian.

Cullen snorts. “I’m sure he can handle being away from him for a couple hours.”

Dorian shrugs. “He’s really _sensitive_.”

 

* * *

 

Downstairs in the lobby, Cullen looks for Alistair. He’s still thinking about their conversation yesterday and he has been wondering what happened after they went to bed. He doesn’t see him, though. Only Anders is there. Dorian is off helping Felix with something already, so Cullen’s alone. He wonders if he should pretend he doesn’t see Anders and go the other way.

“Morning,” says Anders.

_Too late._

“Hi,” Cullen smiles and brushes a hand through his hair. “How are you?”

“Doing okay…” he shifts his weight from foot to foot awkwardly. Cullen wonders if that means he’s not doing well at all or that Anders _hates_ him.

“Where’s Al?” asks Cullen. He’s looking over Anders’ shoulders.

“He went for a run…” says Anders.

Cullen tries to discern what Anders’ expression means. It’s confusing—a vein in his neck is a little _too_ prominent.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon, though—did you need something?” asks Anders.

“Not really… Want some coffee?” asks Cullen.

Anders looks like he wants to say no. “Sure. Thanks.”

“What do you drink?” Cullen gestures to the starbucks-esque coffee cart in the hotel’s lobby.

“Americano, if they have it.”

“Sure.”

Anders leaves to perch on the edge of one of those high-backed chairs Cullen and Alistair sat in yesterday. He looks really twitchy, Cullen notices. The few minutes he has alone while he’s waiting in line feel like a relief. He doesn’t like to admit it, but being in the same room with Anders is uncomfortable.

Eventually, he has to approach him again. He neglects to get one of those cardboard rings, so the coffees burn his hands on the way over.

“So,” Anders takes the cup. “You already _know_ , don’t you?” He raises an eyebrow.

Cullen thinks about lying, but it’s not in his nature—not anymore.

“I think I do,” says Cullen cautiously. “Did he ask you last night?”

Anders sighs. “Yes. I didn’t handle it particularly well.”

Cullen wonders what that means. By all accounts, Anders is as crazy about Alistair as Alistair is about _him_. Why wouldn’t he say ‘yes’ on the spot?

“So that’s why he’s running,” says Anders. “He does that when he’s stressed.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Cullen dismissively.

Anders glares.

“Sorry,” Cullen clears his throat. “I mean… that’s what he _used_ to do when we were close too…”

“Thank you, that makes it _so_ much better…” Anders rolls his eyes.

They sigh in tandem and avoid making eye contact.

“I should have just said _yes_ ,” breathes Anders. He looks down at a spot on the floor. He isn’t really talking to Cullen, but Cullen’s _there_ : it feels like he’s with a patient.

“Why didn’t you?” he asks.

Anders settles deeper into the chair while Cullen sits adjacent.

“It just caught me off guard,” says Anders. “After all the breaking up and getting back together, I wasn’t really sure if we’d do this marriage thing.”

Cullen nods. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you sort of get back together with the _express_ purpose of getting married and having kids and whatever?”

Anders laughs, but it’s humorless. “We did… but it was easy to agree to all of that when I was a student. I didn’t know how tired and stressed I’d be as a resident.”

Cullen senses that he’s holding something back. “...and what else?”

Anders smiles sadly. “I’m just not _sure_ —that he loves me.”

“ _What_?”

“Sometimes I think he’s in love with the idea of me more than the reality—we spent so long dancing around this relationship. The expectations are horrifyingly high. What if I can’t live up to them?” asks Anders.

“Ah, I see.” Cullen thinks about how to be helpful. He could tell a fable from his own confusing romance with Dorian, but it doesn’t really apply. The parameters were all so different. He also can’t shake the feeling that all of this is partially his fault. Anders and Alistair would have probably been married for years already if he hadn’t interfered.

“Listen…” Cullen leans in, “I’m really sorry.”

Anders sighs. “It’s okay—this doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He smiles gently. “I just want to sort this out before tonight… it’s distracting us from the wedding.”

Cullen nods.

“I better go look for him.” Anders stands suddenly. “Thanks for the coffee…”

Cullen implies the rest of the sentence, ‘ _and for everything else_.’ Maybe they’re about to turn a corner.

 

When Anders is gone, Dorian appears across the lobby.

“Hey,” he says through a smirk.

Cullen feels his heart speed up when he sees him. “Good morning, Love. I thought you were with Felix already?”

Dorian shakes his head. “He was still in bed, so I took the morning off to find you.”

They kiss.

“So… what’s going on with Anders and Alistair?” he whispers. He pulls Cullen to sit _with_ him in an oversized chair. They don’t really fit together side by side, so they’re pitched toward each other in a lopsided version of cuddling.

“Did you come down here just for the gossip?” asks Cullen.

“Yes.” Dorian kisses Cullen’s cheek. They’re not usually like this in public, but maybe being in a new city has changed Dorian’s outlook a little.

“Well, I can’t actually tell what happened,” says Cullen. “...but the gist is that Alistair did, in fact, ask, and it didn’t go well.”

“Ooh. awkward,” laughs Dorian.

“You are not nice,” jokes Cullen. “This is their lives we’re talking about.”

“Bite me.”

Cullen raises an eyebrow. “Do we have time?”

Dorian laughs and stands. “Only one way to find out.” 

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, Cullen and Dorian emerge from their room, freshly showered and completely spent. Cullen can’t remember the last time he exerted himself like this. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he did anything this athletic—he has ten extra pounds around his waist to prove it. Having a daughter changes everything.

“We have just over half an hour until the rehearsal,” says Dorian, looking at his watch. It’s a gift Cullen gave him last Christmas. He wears it every day.

“Perfect,” says Cullen. “We can check in with Felix and make sure he’s all set. He’s probably been with Carver all day—he hates tradition.” Cullen hates tradition too, so he appreciates Felix’s irreverence.

“Cullen?” Dorian stops walking in the middle of the hallway. He’s looking at his phone in sudden shock. “We need to call Alistair…” He turns the phone so Cullen can read it.

 **Alistair:** we’re getting married.

“Oh my god, our little boy is all grown up,” says Dorian. He laughs and puts the phone to his ear. “I understand congratulations are in order?”

Cullen can’t hear exactly what Alistair says on the other end, but he can understand the tone. There’s lots of shrieking and laughing.

“Okay, well, we have to get down to the rehearsal, right?” says Dorian. “Yes… uh huh… see you then.” He hangs up.

“So I guess everything worked out,” says Cullen. He drags Dorian into a hug and kisses his hair.

Dorian nods. “It seems like it.”

They kiss.

“And just think,” says Dorian, “you made this possible… after you almost ruined it.”

He’s definitely kidding, but Cullen feels a little pain in his chest. Dorian gives him a look.

“Sweetheart, I’m kidding,” Dorian says. “You’re the _best_.”

“All right, well, my status notwithstanding, we need to check in with Felix,” says Cullen.

They nod and walk downstairs to the suite hand in hand. In the corridor, Cullen can _hear_ Felix’s suite—everyone inside is shouting. _Who is that anyway?_

Dorian shrugs and opens the door—he has the second key: it’s one of his best-man perks.

Cullen takes in the scene. The whole room is full of merry-makers and well-wishers. He doesn’t know most of them—friends of Felix’s from work, no doubt. Attorneys seem to know how to party almost as well as physicians: ‘ _work hard, play harder_ ’ and all that.

“Hey!” calls Alistair. He’s standing right next to Felix, looking proud of himself. “Look who decided to turn up…”

Everyone laughs and claps Cullen and Dorian on the back—mostly Dorian; he’s more important than Cullen is in this scenario.

“Congratulations,” whispers Cullen. He sidles up to Alistair and speaks out of the corner of his mouth. He knows this isn’t the right forum to make a big scene, but he wants to acknowledge it—this is _huge_.

Alistair nods. For the first time in years, Cullen _remembers_ that they were once best friends. There was a time when they understood each other—every little gesture and eye roll. They spoke a secret language that only kindreds comprehend. They were connected.

Once, in their first year, Cullen snapped at Alistair in front of the whole class. He wanted to get his attention so he would help with a lymph node palpation demonstration, but it came out like he was some kind of Neanderthal—ordering around a subservient. He remembers the way Alistair’s face turned red; the silence that fell over the room. They laughed for hours afterward. Even years later, they told the story at dinner parties. It was a time in their lives when they were so close they didn’t _have_ to be polite. It was only the _audience_ who didn’t understand. All at once, Cullen realizes he _misses_ Alistair.

Upon further introspection, he realizes that _this_ might have been the same feeling that led him to make that mistake so many years ago… the mistake that broke Alistair and Anders up. He wonders if there is some way to get back to Alistair without confusing it with love. He thinks he can—after all, he has Dorian now: a paragon of what it’s like to really love—to really be a partner.

“Cullen?” Alistair is looking at him strangely.

“Oh. Sorry. What did you say?” asks Cullen. He blushes.

“I said thank you…” Alistair laughs and throws an arm around Cullen’s neck.

_Is this a hug?_

“I’m so happy for you, Al,” whispers Cullen.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” says Alistair. He claps him on the back and turns toward the rest of the group.

           

* * *

 

Downstairs, Carver’s crew meets up with Felix’s. They all find their seats at a long table and Hawke stands, his glass in the air.

“I’d like to thank everyone for being here,” says Hawke. “This has been an amazing weekend so far and I’m so excited to finally see these two get together…”

Felix and Carver look at each other adoringly. Bethany is already crying.

“I’d like to take a second to acknowledge one other thing, though, before we get too far into the accolades and stories for Fever,” he laughs. That couple-nickname is terrible, but Cullen (and everyone else) accepts it as fact at this point. Felix made it up.

“...I’d like to say congratulations to my best friend,” he tips his head and drink toward Anders, “who has finally given in and decided to marry the love of his life.”

The whole table erupts into cheers and laughter. People are, apparently, _surprised_ , which Cullen finds odd. Hasn’t this been brewing _forever_?

“...congrats, Buddy…” Hawke says. “Now let’s get back to the nuptials of the hour.”

Cullen listens to the rest of Hawke’s speech—and Bethany’s, which comes afterward with even more tears—but he doesn’t really _hear_ either one. He’s too busy remembering. He’s remembering the speech that Alistair gave before their med school graduation—he was the president of their class. He said something that Cullen thinks he’ll remember for the rest of his life:

“Today, we’re students, but tomorrow we won’t be. Tomorrow we’ll be someone else: someone new, with responsibilities and stresses that we can’t even imagine. But today, we’re still us, so while we _can_ —while we’re unencumbered with adulthood—let’s remember the people who helped us get here and challenge ourselves to say thank you, even to our nemeses.”

Alistair was really wise back then—he still is, but it was more surprising when he was twenty-five. If Cullen had been listening to that speech with the ears and brain he has now, he would have known it was for him. Even back then, Alistair was starting to realize that everything in life is a lesson. If Cullen had known that, he might have done things differently, but because he _didn’t_ know it, he made some mistakes. The fact that they are all here together _after_ those mistakes is the amazing part. What Alistair knew—and Cullen eventually learned—is that we are all morons… just some of us have the propensity to see past that idiocy.

_Thanks, Al—and congratulations._

           

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I love the idea that Cullen and Alistair are finally going to be able to bury the hatchet after everything that went down between them. I'm not sure how it happened, but I seem to have developed a fluff addiction. 
> 
> If you liked this story, I'd love to hear from you.
> 
>  
> 
> **The last chapter of the main story,[Coffee Shop](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8694850), will be posted later this weekend!**


End file.
